


Dreams (Are Made of This)

by secondalto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Feels, M/M, Prostitution, Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondalto/pseuds/secondalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky will do anything and everything for Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams (Are Made of This)

**Author's Note:**

> So I could say a lot about this fic, which I started way back in May. It got put to the side while I worked on the soul-mate series. But Bucky was insistent. So tldr, I HAVE A LOT OF BUCKY BARNES FEELS OKAY?
> 
> With thanks to Rainne for the original idea that started the fic and for wrangling my tenses.
> 
> Lots of inspiration came from [this](http://secondalto.tumblr.com/tagged/everything%27s-bucky-and-everything-hurts) tag on my tumblr. Have a tissue handy.

It looked like any other neighborhood in Brooklyn, but once someone really stopped there for a while, people began to realize what was different about it. Bucky could give two flying fucks that this was where the so called “deviants” lived. They were his friends, his family, and the people who took Steve and him in when Steve’s ma finally had to go to the TB ward and Steve got kicked out of their apartment.

Bucky found them another one cheap, in this neighborhood. He ignored his ma’s insistence that if he went there, he’d turn into one of those “awful people, James. You’re courting hell, James.” He was with Steve, there to watch over the jerk in case he continued his pattern of fighting anyone and everyone who was bigger than him. That wasn’t a hard thing to be as Steve weighed a buck ten at most and wheezed like a squeezebox just going up three steps.

Bucky’s been half in love with Steve from the moment they met. Seeing this pint-sized kid take on older and bigger kids sparked something in him, and now he was always looking out for Steve. He tried to include Steve in all the things he did, from movies to dancing to double dates where Bucky usually ended up with both girls. Steve said he didn’t mind. Bucky only went along because he didn’t want to treat Steve like he was different. He had needs like any other guy, but he always went home to Steve. Bucky hovered because the God Steve prayed to every night was a fickle bastard who gave Steve a body that didn’t match his heart. He cared because the God he no longer believed in was a son of a bitch who was going to take Steve from him one day.

“You okay, Stevie?” he asked, watching as Steve made the final step onto their floor. The apartment was down the hall and to the right. Steve rested his head against the wall, breathing harshly and trembling a little. It took all Bucky had not to just pick him up and carry him the rest of the way.

“Yeah,” he breathed, head down, concentrating on taking air in. “Just… gimme a… minute.”

“All the time in the world,” he said, stepping up next to Steve. He kept an eye out, making sure no one was gonna rag on Steve for bein’ weak. Not that he thought it would happen, not here, but you never knew.

“How’d you…manage this, Buck?” Steve wheezed, tilting his head a little to look at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. “Weren’t nothing. Know the landlady, she’s like a second cousin’s grandma or somethin’. Distant relation. She wanted to make sure I had a good place to be.” He took Steve’s arm and checked his pulse. It was slowing. “Said I could pay rent however. Cash, chores, artwork.”

Steve gave him a weak smile. “Artwork? Buck, you can’t be serious. How are we going to afford it?”

“You got your thing with the WPA. I’ve got a few shifts at the grocer’s. Figure I might go down to the docks, see if they need any help. We’ll make it work, Stevie, I promise.”

They did, until Steve got sick. Bucky isn’t sure what Steve caught, just that Bucky found Steve hacking his lungs up while curled into a ball on his bed. Steve was running a fever and Bucky flat out ran to the druggist. He begged and promised to pay when he could. Luckily the guy behind the counter knew Steve’s ma, so he reluctantly agreed, giving Bucky two weeks to get him the money. Bucky spat out a rushed “Thanks” as he ran for the door, heading back for Steve, medicine in hand. It took a couple of days but Steve came out of it fine, if weak. Bucky started hustling the docks for all the shifts he could get, since they paid the most. He ran errands, and even played model for one of the guys a few doors down but it wasn’t enough.

He had to pay the guy, or he’d never be able to go to the druggist again. And Stevie got sick so often… He couldn’t think about it. He went for a walk. He walked right past one of the alleys where certain deals went down. There were people who couldn’t afford to go to one of those fancy ‘gentlemen’s clubs’ or those who just wanted to get their jollies quick and cheap. Bucky stopped. Could he? Would he?

He had three days left to pay off the medicine. This was Steve’s health. He’d do just about anything for Steve. Even… he found himself turning into the alley. He didn’t get far when a tall guy with jet black hair stopped him.

“Do you…?” he asked, looking around like the cops were gonna bust him any second now.

“Whadda ya want?” Bucky replied.

“I’ll give you two dollars to suck me off,” the man said, his words jumbled as he rushed to get them out.

“Sure, there’s a shadows over there,” Bucky said, pointing to a doorway.

“Yes, yes, whatever.” The man went over, leaning against the door. He undid his pants and took his cock out.

Bucky swallowed and steeled his reserve. He could do this. This was for Steve.

He got his hands around the guy’s cock, stroking him for a moment before kneeling down. He licked the head, heard the man groan and did it again. Bucky tried to think about what he would like himself. He licked up and down the length of the guy’s dick, finally taking the head between his lips. The guy made sounds that reminded Bucky of walking past the whorehouse. He took in as much of the length as he could before gagging. He sucked in and the guy thrust a little. Bucky tried not to bring up the contents of his stomach, swallowing around the gag reflex. This made the guy groan even more.

He sucked and bobbed his head as the guy writhed and moaned, a hand running through Bucky’s hair and then pulling. Bucky kept at it. The guy was gonna come soon if the frantic sounds he was making were any indication.

“Fuck, kid, gonna,” the guy panted, flooding Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky’s throat clamped up, stopping him from swallowing. When the guy was done, Bucky pulled off slowly, turning his head and spitting. He wiped up any excess with the bottom of the guys shirt and tucked him all back in while the guy stood there panting. Bucky stood, waiting. The guy finally blinked his eyes, scrambling in his pocket. He held out some bills, Bucky took them and the guy scrambled off. Three bucks. More than enough to pay off the druggist. Bucky smiled.

He didn’t think he’d ever have to do that again, but the winter was hard and the jobs at the docks dried up. He went only when he really needed to: to pay their heating bill, to buy Steve a heavier coat, to get some food. He was stunned one time when a man offered five bucks to suck Bucky off. He wasn’t going to say no. Five bucks could get him and Stevie a lot of things.

And then one day he came home - after a job that was gonna help pay for a new sketchbook Bucky was planning to give Steve for Christmas - and things went differently. He’d planned on getting into the apartment, grabbing a change of clothes and hitting the shower at the end of the hall before Steve came home. Instead when he got in, he saw Steve standing there as he shut the door. Steve was glaring, his cheeks flushed and his breathing shallow.

“You okay, Stevie?” Bucky took a step forward, ready to help out.

“I saw you,” Steve said.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Steve shook his head. “I fucking saw you, Buck. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

“Steve, I’m gonna need some context here,” Bucky said confused.

Steve pulled him further into the apartment, rummaging into Bucky’s pockets. He pulled out the wad of bills that were there, tossing them onto the bed. Bucky swallowed.

“Stevie, it doesn’t… I’m not… it’s for you. Gonna buy you a Christmas present.”

“How many times, Buck? Didn’t look like your first time,” Steve asked; he was looking down at the floor and whispering.

“Only when we needed it,” he mumbled. “First time was after you were sick, had to pay for the medicine.”

“We coulda found other ways, Buck. Did you really hafta go and do that?”

“Fuck, Steve, you gotta know, I’d do anything when it comes to you,” Bucky answered, looking right at Steve.

“Anything?” The look on Steve’s face made Bucky pause.

“Anything, Stevie,” he said.

Steve reached out and grabbed him, pulling him over and onto the bed. Bucky was so surprised that he went. Then Steve was scrabbling for Bucky’s zipper, pulling out his dick.

“Steve, god, no, Steve you don’t have to.”

But Steve was wrapping both his hands around Bucky, pumping him. Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back. Steve licked the head, swirling his tongue around. Then he took Bucky into his mouth, sucking gently. Bucky sucked in a breath, holding himself back from thrusting. He looked down to see Steve’s mouth wrapped around his cock. “Jesus, Steve,” he breathed. He combed his fingers through Steve’s hair as Steve used his hands and his mouth to make Bucky whine. Bucky moved his hips, and Steve hummed, the vibrations pushing Bucky closer to the edge. “Steve, god, gonna come soon,” he panted, trying to pull Steve off, but Steve just sucked in harder. Bucky arched up, groaning Steve’s name as he spurted into Steve’s mouth. Steve swallowed all of it down, a few drops dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. The sight of it almost made Bucky hard again.

He pulled Steve up, licking away the remnants before kissing him. Steve kissed back, licking into Bucky’s mouth. Steve’s erection pressed into Bucky’s thigh. Bucky pawed at Steve, unbuckling his belt before undoing Steve’s pants enough to get a hand in. He spit into his palm, wishing for something better, before he began stroking Steve’s cock. Steve moaned against Bucky’s shoulder, hot breath skittering over Bucky’s back. Bucky planted kisses along Steve’s neck as he stroked and twisted his hand. Steve was soon shuddering, pulsing come over Bucky’s hand. Bucky wiped his hand on the sheet, holding Steve.

“God, Buck… that was….” Steve said, gulping air.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, it was. Stevie… why?”

“Bucky,” Steve laughed gently. “Cause I wanted to. And cause well… I love you.”

“Yeah? Love you too, punk,” he said, grinning.

“No more of the back alley, Buck. We’ll find other ways to make it through. Want you all to myself now.”

“Anything for you, Stevie. Anything,” Bucky agreed, pulling Steve into his arms, wrapping himself around Steve as they fell into sleep.

*~*~*~*~*

The sight of the draft card in the mail slot made Bucky’s blood run cold. He‘d always known there was a chance. The machines of war were getting bigger and bigger, taking more and more men. His heart pounded in his chest, in his ears. He couldn’t focus on anything but that card. He was going to have to leave Stevie. He didn’t even think about not answering. Only cowards didn’t answer the call. Bucky was no coward. Besides Steve would give him hell. Ever since the recruitment offices had started popping up, Steve had been eager to go. Bucky had kept putting him off. Now he’d have no choice to let Steve try, even if Bucky knew his lover was an automatic 4F given the laundry list of ills Steve had.

He grabbed the card, along with the few other bits of mail and trudged up to the apartment. He let himself in, and not even Steve’s bright smile could make him feel any better.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” he asked, putting his sketchbook down and getting out of the chair.

Bucky just tossed the mail onto the small table they ate at, the card lying on top.

“Oh… Buck… when do you go for training?” Steve asked.

“Next week. Steve… I hate thinkin’ about you here, by yourself.”

“I’ll be fine, Bucky. It’s not like I haven’t been on my own before. I got paid some today for a sketch I did. C’mon, we’ll splurge on a hot dog or somethin’.”

“Rather stay in,” Bucky said, pulling Steve in for hug. “Wanna spend time with you. Have the memories for when I….”He choked on the words. He doesn’t want to even think about being away from Steve.

“Sure, we can do that.” Steve returned the hug, guiding him to the bed. They laid down together holding on to each other.

They did go out the next day, if only to buy food to last them until Bucky left. Bucky also snuck off to the druggist to buy something. He spent the money he’d been saving for Steve’s birthday. The guy at the counter gave him a look, but Bucky just glared back.

When they got back, Steve put together a meal. When they finished, he tried to summon up the courage to ask Steve to do something.

“Thinkin’ about leavin’ me already, Buck?” Steve teased.

“No,” he laughed. “But there was something I wanted to do before I went. I… I wanna be with you Stevie.”

“Well, I think you are,” Steve replied, confused. “Or am I missing something here?”

“Punk, I’m trying to be romantic here. I want to fuck you.”

He watched as Steve swallowed hard, his eyes wide and mouth gaping. “Yes. Please. God, just, yes.” Steve was nodding so hard Bucky thought his head might fall off.

Bucky pushed back the chair and pulled Steve up, leaning down to kiss him. Steve’s mouth was warm, moaning around Bucky’s own as Bucky started to pull at Steve’s shirt. Steve tugged at Bucky’s clothes as they stumbled to the two cots that served as beds. They’d long ago pushed them together, always sleeping in each other’s arms. Bucky broke off, pushing Steve away for a moment.

“Hold on, hold on,” he panted. He moved away to get the bag from the druggist. He pulled out a small jar of petroleum jelly and a rubber, both precious commodities. Steve was watching him, eyes getting wider and a flush running down his chest. He was starting to breathe a little heavy. Bucky was starting to think maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Buck,” Steve whined. “Get back here and kiss me.”

“Get your pants off and get on the bed,” Bucky said. He watched for a minute as Steve did just that. Then he walked over, opening the jar and setting it and the rubber on the small table next to the cots. Steve was lying there, the flush continuing down the rest of his small but perfect body. Bucky quickly shed the rest of his clothes before straddling Steve’s body and kissing him. His hands were everywhere but Steve’s cock.

Steve whined and tried to get Bucky to touch him. “Buck, please…”

“Patience,” Bucky crooned, reaching for the jar. He scooped some out with a finger and used his knees to get Steve to widen his legs. Steve wriggled under Bucky, causing Bucky to curse as his own dick hardened even more. He pressed his finger to Steve’s opening and watched as it slipped in. Steve stopped moving, gulping in breaths as Bucky breached him. “Stevie, gonna need you to breathe normally. Don’t want you to pass out.”

“Fuck, Bucky, I… I…”

“How does it feel?”

“Different, but good. I can take another,” Steve said, slowing his breathing.

Bucky pulled out, making Steve whine. He got more of the slick and pushed back in with two fingers, twisting them into Steve. Steve moaned. Steve moved against Bucky’s fingers, fucking himself onto them. Bucky swallowed hard thinking it was the most beautiful thing he’d fucking seen. Bucky leaned down and kissed Steve as he worked his fingers in and out. Bucky added a third finger, crooking them a little. Steve arched almost completely off the cots.

“Buck!”

“Jesus, Steve, you’re so fucking beautiful. Wish I could see you come just from this,” Bucky rasped, his voice rough. He pulled all his fingers out and reached for the rubber. He got it unwrapped and rolled on while Steve watched him with eager eyes. He pushed Steve’s legs up, so they were resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve looked up at him, cheeks red and mouth red from kissing. Bucky slicked himself up more. He lined up and began an achingly slow push into Steve. He watched as Steve’s body opened up for him. Bucky strained against the urge to just forget it all and thrust in. He didn’t want to hurt Steve. Steve’s mouth worked around a silent moan as Bucky finally settled all the way in.

“Christ, Steve, you feel so good,” Bucky gasped.

Steve reached for him, pulling him down to kiss him. “God, Buck, I… move.”

Bucky grinned and pulled out almost as slowly as he’d pushed in. But Steve was having none of it, snapping his hips up and making Bucky swear.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Steve,” he panted.

Steve growled. “Not made of paper, Bucky. Now fuck me.”

Bucky got a firmer grip on Steve’s hips. Steve moved his legs to wrap about Bucky. He thrust back in and Steve let out a low moan that went straight to Bucky’s dick. Bucky established a rhythm, fast and not too hard. Steve writhed and moaned under him, hands gripping at the sheets. Bucky was not going to last long.

“Touch yourself, Steve. I wanna see you, hear you come.”

Steve untangled a hand from the sheets and wrapped it around his cock. Bucky thrust harder, faster and Steve just moaned louder, not caring who might hear them. A few strokes of his hand and Steve was coming, striping his stomach and chest with come, tightening around Bucky. Bucky bit his lip, pounding into Steve before finally reaching his own climax.

“Fuck!” he shouted, closing his eyes and holding onto Steve as he came. He trembled he came down, trying not to fall onto Steve.

“God, Buck, you’re gorgeous when you come,” Steve rasped.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked down. Steve was a beautiful wreck. His hair was mussed and sweaty, his lips red and plump from kissing, his entire body flushed. Bucky leaned down and kissed him. He pulled out slowly, petting Steve as he did so. The rubber was tossed to the floor. Then he lay down next to Steve.

“Steve, Christ… that was…,” he whispered.

Steve smiled and kissed him. “It was. Love you, Buck.”

“Love you too, Stevie.”

*~*~*~*~*~

Whoever said war was hell had made the worst understatement of all time.

Bucky constantly lived in fear of dying. Of leaving Steve alone back in Brooklyn. Of never being able to really be with the one person on this god forsaken planet that he loved. He was surrounded by the screams of the men; dying, wounded and scared. Everything smelled of piss, blood and sweat. He went to sleep every night holding onto the crucifix Steve had snuck into a pocket. Not because he really believed, but because it was a tangible reminder of Steve.

When Bucky had shown proficiency with a rifle, the brass had started sending him out on missions. The first time he’d killed someone he could actually see through a scope, he threw up. It had also felt kind of exhilarating which only brought on more dry heaves. He shouldn’t feel good about killing someone, even if they were one of the bad guys.

He wrote to Steve, but tried to keep the worst of his fears out of them. Even then he couldn’t say what he really wanted to; you never knew who might intercept something. All of his real feelings were in code. He talked about going dancing, about having a drink down at the bar. He got a few back, but he wasn’t worried when they stopped. Paper and stamps were a precious thing and Steve should be spending his money on more important things like food and medicine.

His company got into some bad trouble when they were sent into northern Italy. They were overrun by the Germans and taken to some factory in Austria. They were separated into cells. After that first night some of the soldiers would come walking by the cells, just looking at all of the prisoners. They would pick one, take him away and he would never been seen or heard from again.

The rumors were swirling constantly. There was talk about experiments. The name HYDRA was flung around. Bucky remembered a Greek monster named that from school. He wondered what it had to do with the soldiers being taken and never coming back. Then they came for him. He was forced onto a table and strapped down. He started reciting his name, rank and serial number. They’d never get anything else out of him.

“Well, Sergeant Barnes, this shall be interesting. My name is Arnim Zola. Let us begin, shall we?”

Then the tiny man took a needle and stuck Bucky with it. Bucky swore at the man. Zola just stood there as if waiting for something to happen. Bucky wondered what the fuck had been in the needle. He didn’t have to wait very long to find out. It felt like liquid fire coursing through his veins.

Bucky screamed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The little man with the glasses was gone. Bucky still ached but the pain was less. He wondered what had been pumped into him, what it would do to him. There was quiet. Whatever part of the factory he’d been taken to, Bucky could hear nothing of the other men. They couldn’t hear him either, more than likely and Bucky was glad for it. He lay there and listened to the sound of his own beating heart. He prayed to the Holy Mother to keep Steve safe. Steve was the only reason he was fighting. A chance to see that face again, to experience more of what they had before they left.

He heard the rumbles of explosions. He increased his prayers. He was going to die here. Bucky was strangely okay with it because that meant he’d never have to find out what Zola did to him. He heard footsteps. Zola. He began the recitation of his name, rank and serial number again.

He thought he heard his name, but he’d been staring at the ceiling. Then his bonds were loose. He focused again.

“Is that?”

“It’s me. It’s Steve,” the familiar voice said.

Bucky’s vision was clear and it really was Steve. His face was fuller, but his eyes were so bright. Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Maybe’s he’s dead and in Heaven. But that would mean Steve was dead too.

“Steve?”

“Come on,” Steve said, pulling him up. Not dead then.

“Steve,” Bucky said again. He looked at Steve. Taller, heavier, healthier. What the fuck did someone do to him? Steve was clutching at Bucky’s arms.

“I thought you were dead,” he breathed.

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky retorted. Good to know his sense of humor still worked.

Steve stared at the wall behind them for a moment before saying “Come on,” and half dragging Bucky out of the room. It felt really strange to be the one doing the leaning, Bucky thought.

“What happened to you?” he finally asked.

“I joined the army.” Bucky couldn’t see Steve’s face but he would have bet a nickel Steve was grinnin’.

As they went down the hall, Bucky had a few more questions.

“Did it hurt?” Whatever was given to him hurt more than Bucky can properly explain.

“A little,” Steve said.

“Is it permanent?”

“So far.” Bucky tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to know any more than that for now. They needed to focus on escaping.

Steve might have been leading, but Bucky felt like he was following to keep an eye on Steve. They climbed stairs and Bucky followed cause in his mind Steve was still the skinny little thing who would wheeze after three of them and Bucky was trying to remember if he had some asthma cigarettes in his pocket or not. They reached a walkway and on the other side are two men, some tall guy and Zola. Zola was looking at Bucky, like he was assessing what effect, if any, the injection had on Bucky. Then the other guy was pulling at his neck and his whole fucking face came off. The conversation Steve had been having with this guy finally filtered into Bucky’s brain and he pushed down the urge to throw up. Whatever Zola gave him was like what this other guy, Schmidt, got. Did that make Bucky a monster? Steve obviously got the same thing, but he was not a monster. Steve could never be a monster because he was fundamentally good inside and out. But Bucky knew, absolutely knew, there was darkness in him.

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” he asked Steve, only half joking.

Schmidt and Zola escape. Steve made Bucky go ahead of him across a tiny little support beam that collapsed when Bucky got to the other side. Bucky looked over at Steve. He couldn’t leave him, not when he just got him back. Steve eyed the gap. Bucky knew he was thinking of doing something reckless. Then Steve looked back at Bucky.

“Go on, get out of here,” he said, waving Bucky away.

“No! Not without you!” Bucky screamed back. He couldn’t have come this far to leave Steve behind. Sometimes, Bucky thought he was only put on this Earth to look after one Steven Grant Rogers. Because, without Bucky, Steve would be dead, several times over. Bucky’d lost count of the number of fights and scrapes he’d pulled Steve out of and he was damned sure not going to leave Steve to try and get out of this one now. Even if it meant they both died.

Then Steve took steps back and ran. Bucky moved out of the way and Steve landed like the jump was nothing. They made it out of the building relatively unscathed, meeting with the rest of the men in a clearing. Steve was in charge then, checking on everyone, making sure the wounded were taken care of before they began to move out.

As they began to march, Bucky made sure he was right there on Steve’s left because Steve was a little hard of hearing in that ear. Then he shook his head. Steve’s hearing was probably fine now. After they’d gone about a mile, Bucky realized something was off. He can’t keep up. No, that wasn’t it. He could keep up, but he found that he was having to not quite double time it to keep pace with Steve. There was something different about Steve’s stride.

Steve walked with more confidence now. Straighter, and more sure of himself. Gone was the hitching swing Steve used to have to accommodate his scoliosis. Of course. Steve was healthy now. A body to match the heart and soul. Bucky took another mile and several attempts to change his own stride to match. Soon enough he was keeping up with Steve.

When they stopped for the night, Bucky scoped out a spot for them on the edges of the group. It was fully dark before Steve came to lie down. It was all Bucky could do to hold himself back and not attack Steve. Instead it was Steve who climbed all over Bucky. Steve’s hands pushed away clothes, tracing over Bucky’s body. Steve’s voice was low and reverent against Bucky’s ear as Steve covered Bucky’s body with his own.

“Thought I’d lost you, Buck. Couldn’t have gone on if I’d lost you.” Bucky could hear the near crack in Steve’s voice.

Bucky’s answer was lost as Steve kissed him. There were low groans bitten off by more kisses. Steve got Bucky’s cock out and then his own. Steve’s much larger hand wrapped around them both. Bucky writhed and pushed up into Steve’s grip. It was over all too soon. Steve’s held onto him and Bucky held on right back.

“God, Stevie, I…,” he breathed.

“Few more days, Buck, I promise,” Steve muttered low. “We can be together then.”

Another kiss as Steve wiped them clean and then tucked himself, then Bucky back in. Then Steve pushed Bucky around and spooned up behind him. It was a reverse of their usual positions, but Bucky was strangely okay with that.

*~*~*~*

When they got back to camp, Bucky was absolutely desperate to pull every layer of clothing from Steve’s body and see exactly what Howard fucking Stark did to his man. Fuck anyone who wanted to throw him in jail, damn him to hell or say something about him loving Steve. Phillips came over and inspected the troops before walking off. Then this dame - and boy she was one hell of a gal - stepped up and gave Steve a look before telling him off.

And Steve flirted.

Bucky’s heart damn near broke right then and there. Steve fucking Rogers, who used to get pink all the way from his ears to his chest if a girl even looked at him, was _FLIRTING_ with a woman who looked like she belonged on the nose of a bomber. Bucky knew he was frowning. But when Steve looked back at him, he smiled. Then Steve turned back and it was all Bucky could do not to fight his way through the crowd behind him to go and throw up. Somehow, he managed to give a shout of “Let’s hear it for Captain America!”

As the crowd finally dispersed he escaped to the edge of camp. He punched a tree. Steve didn’t need him any more. That first night in the woods? It was a fluke. And Bucky would swallow it all down because Steve deserved this. Steve deserved to have the girl and the happy ever after. He managed to avoid Steve for the next few days.

*~*~*~*~*~*

They were moved back to England for a bit, a chance to relax and be just men. Steve got locked away with the top brass for debriefings. Apparently he saw a map while rescuing Bucky or something. Bucky was missing him. If pressed he would deny that vehemently. All the men made plans to meet in a local pub and Bucky would be there, drowning his sorrows. He’d mostly –mostly – gotten over what happened at camp. But to his surprise, Steve joined them.

Bucky sat at the bar, slowly sipping at some damn fine whiskey. Steve sat a table, making the case to some of the men to join an elite team. Bucky knew that Steve would ask him. Of course. And could Bucky really say anything but yes? No matter how big, how strong, how invincible Steve thought he was, Bucky’s first, and most important job, was to protect Steve. He took a sip of whiskey when Steve sat down next to him.

“See,” he said. “Told you, they’re all idiots.”

Steve gave him a wry grin. “How ‘bout you? You ready to follow _Captain America_ into the jaws of death?”

Bucky snorted. “Hell no,” he replied. “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him.” Steve seemed happy with that answer and Bucky took another sip. Then he glanced over and saw a poster for the circus Steve had been with before the rescue. “But you’re keeping the outfit right?”

“It’s growing on me,” Steve said, and Bucky could have sworn the tips of Steve’s ears got a little pink. Bucky’s mind immediately went to all the filthiest things he could think of doing involving the outfit. The singing in the bar subsided when Agent Carter walked in. She was wearing red. The perfect color for a she-devil, the bitterest part of Bucky muttered. She made arrangements with Steve for equipment testing in the morning and there was a passing comment about dancing. Bucky struggled to breathe. Steve was polite, none of the previous flirting present. When Carter swept out of the room, the singing started back up and Steve was still standing there next to Bucky.

“You not going with her?” Bucky asked. He was pretty sure he’d kept the waiver out of it.

Steve turned and stared at Bucky. “Why would I want to do that, Buck?”

“Cause she’s fucking gorgeous, punk. Every man in this place would want to follow her.”

“Not every man,” Steve whispered. It was Bucky’s turn to stare. He may have done more than that, because Steve let out a little laugh and bumped him with a shoulder. “Come on, jerk.” He nodded towards the door.

Bucky downed the rest of the whiskey and followed. Once they were out onto the cooler street, Bucky stuffed his hands in his pockets and may have ogled Steve’s ass for a moment before he caught up. “Where are we headed?”

“SSR has rented apartments for the officers. Mine’s down the street.” Steve tried to keep walking but Bucky caught his sleeve and they both stopped. Bucky’s mind was racing.

“Steve,” he choked out. “Steve, but… Agent…” he shook his head. “Why?”

“Don’t you remember the last night in Brooklyn?” Steve asked. Bucky did.

“Yeah,” he said, frowning. “But… you’re not that skinny little runt anymore, Steve. Why would you still want me?” He looked down at the pavement, not wanting to look at Steve for fear of the answer.

Steve gave him a fond smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Cause it’s you, Buck. Always has been. Always will be. And if we weren’t in public I’d kiss the doubt away right now. So, come on, it’s just a few more buildings.”

Bucky swallowed around the lump in his throat as he made himself move. They walked briskly but steadily as they approached a very non-descript building. The elevator was loud and creaky. They managed to make it to the top (Steve assured him that the two floors below were unoccupied, their residents moved away due to the bombings). Bucky was vibrating with anticipation as Steve unlocked the door. The moment they were inside, the door closed and locked behind them, Bucky grabbed Steve and kissed him.

Steve responded by backing Bucky up against the wall. Bucky moaned. Aggressive and possessive Steve was a turn on. Uniforms were hurriedly but carefully stripped as they kissed and groped their way back to the bedroom. Steve had a hand around Bucky’s cock as they sunk onto the mattress.

“Fuck, Stevie, please…” Bucky pleaded as he bucked into Steve’s hand.

“We’ve got all night, Buck,” Steve crooned. “Tell me what you want.”

Bucky panted. “I wanna have you in me. Was afraid to try that before, you bein’ so small and all.”

“And we didn’t have time. But we’ve got it now,” Steve said. He released Bucky’s cock, resulting in a whine from Bucky. “Off with the boxers, and on your knees,” he said.

Bucky’s cock twitched at the order. They were definitely going to be using that again. He nearly stumbled over his own feet getting the boxers off. Then he planted himself on his knees, on the mattress. As he found a comfortable position, Bucky watched as Steve went rummaging in a duffel bag and came out with a jar of petroleum jelly and a handful of rubbers. Bucky’s eyes went wide.

“I was given them at the start of the tour,” Steve explained. “I guess they thought my new look might encourage… something. Wouldn’t do for their star performing monkey to catch something or get a girl pregnant.”

“Not likely,” Bucky snorted. “My gain though. Come on, get over here and fuck me.” He wiggled his ass a little.

Steve grinned and that went straight into Bucky’s gut and heart, warming both. Steve placed one of the rubbers within reach and opened the jar before stripping his own boxers off. Bucky’s mouth watered. Plan for the morning: wake-up blowjob. Steve scooped out some jelly and touched Bucky lightly on the hip.

“Ready for this?” he asked softly.

“More than,” he replied. He sucked in a breath as Steve’s finger ran around his hole before slowly, too god damn slowly, breaching it. “Fuck.”

“Good?”

Bucky bit his lip and nodded. Steve pulled out and pushed back in several times before he added a second finger. “You are not going to tease me, Steve,” he ground out as he rubbed his dick against the covers of the bed.

“I seem to remember something about wanting to see if a certain someone would come just from fingers,” Steve said lightly as he pushed in a third finger and crooked them. Bucky swore a blue streak and pushed back against them.

“Steve,” he whined, pressing his face into the soft sheets.

The fingers were gone and there was the noise of the rubber being taken from the package. Then Steve’s hands were back at his hips and Bucky lifted his face to see Steve kneeling there, poised to fuck him. Bucky nodded and Steve began the slow push. Bucky moaned, whined and gasped as Steve pressed into him.

“I got you, Buck,” he said. Once he was fully seated, he leaned over Bucky’s back, pressing kisses along the knobs of Bucky’s spine.

“I swear to God, Steve, if you don’t move…” he ground out.

Steve chuckled, low and dangerous. “You’ll do what?” Steve pulled out. “I could just leave.” Steve thrust back in. “Or I could keep going.” Out slow and tortuous, in fast and hard.

“Fuck me,” Bucky mewled. He clenched around Steve.

“If that’s what you want.” Steve gripped Bucky’s hips, hitching his ass higher. He began a fast pace that had Bucky clutching at the sheets and trying desperately to reach for his own cock. One of Steve’s hands left Bucky’s hip and reached around. He stroked Bucky in counterpoint to his thrusts. It didn’t take long for Bucky to come, panting Steve’s name over and over. Steve wasn’t far behind him, Bucky’s name a hoarse shout that filled the room. They both fell sideways onto the bed. After a moment, Steve gently pulled out. Bucky whined as pleasurable tremors went through him. Steve was back after a moment, pushing Bucky around so they could lie there together.

“God, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “I can’t… you know you’re never getting rid of me now.”

Steve huffed and smiled against Bucky’s neck. “Who said I wanted to? Still love you, in spite of yourself.”

“Love you too, you big lunk.” Bucky was happy, content. Steve was safe, snug and warm behind him. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Ever wonder what that experiment did to your refractory period?”

Bucky could feel the grin against his skin.

*~*~*~*~*

Bucky accompanied Steve to the meeting with Carter the next morning. She raised an eyebrow and coolly looked Bucky over. Her gaze may have lingered on the hickey that may have been on Bucky’s neck that may not have been completely hidden by his jacket collar. When she nodded and turned there seemed to be a sort of understanding between the three of them.

Stark showed off a damn nifty shield as well as uniforms for the rest of the team. He mentioned something about the outfit. Steve offered Stark a piece of paper with design suggestions. Bucky didn’t suppress the eye roll. He’d been subjected to Steve’s enthusiastic babble about the drawings and had even seen them. He may have made a suggestion of his own regarding zipper placement.

It was all too soon that they shipped back across the Channel and deep into enemy territory. The next two years were some of the best and worst of Bucky’s life. The best because he got to be with Steve. He got to hone his sniper skills taking out the enemy, watching Steve’s back. Bucky got to share a tent with Steve. Even if most nights all they did was hold each other as they slept. Occasionally he got to do things with Steve in the outfit. There was a memorable time in a barn in Belgium and that time deep in the Black Forest.

It was the worst because of Steve. The stupid idiot didn’t know how to stop. He threw himself right into the middle of everything. Bucky wasn’t always there to have his back. He would toss the shield around like a discus thrower from Ancient Greece, like he thought it was a damn game or something. Steve was always volunteering to be bait or the distraction. Bucky tended to roll his eyes, mutter under his breath and wonder why he had to deal with this shit. Oh yeah, ‘cause he loved the fucker in spite of himself.

The rest of the Commandoes knew about Bucky and Steve. There was good natured ribbing, but to them it didn’t matter. When it came to war, all that mattered was that a fellow soldier had your back. And woe to anyone else who might say something. It was a family. And Bucky never wanted it to end. Then they got the word about Zola. Bucky immediately knew that no matter where the tiny scientist was, they were going for him. Which was how he and Steve ended up in the Alps, towering over a set of train tracks.

There was a half-hearted joke about Coney Island and revenge. Bucky took Steve’s joking for what it really was; an admonition to be careful and a declaration of love. They zipped down to the speeding train, all business. He and Steve got briefly separated. It was all a blur. Somewhere in there Bucky got a hold of Steve’s shield, using it to protect himself from a blast. But it wasn’t enough. The thing (person, soldier) with the big guns fired on Bucky. Bucky lost his grip on the shield and was propelled through the hole in the train that had been put there by a previous blast.

He was holding onto the rail, listening to the sounds of Steve fighting. ‘Dear God, let me keep hold til Steve gets to me,’ he thought. The wind whipped past his head, the ground seemed so far, far down. Bucky swallowed and trained his gaze to the gap in the train. Steve appeared, climbing out onto the side of the train and reaching for him.

“Bucky! Hold on!” Steve yelled. “Grab my hand!”

Bucky tried to move along the rail with his hands, but the cold and the movement made it harder than it looked. The rail creaked under the strain. Steve moved a little closer, his hand open and waiting for Bucky to clasp it. The rail gave.

Bucky fell.

As he fell, Bucky thought of Steve. The face he saw held so much pain. He heard the cry of Steve’s voice, soon lost to the sound of the air whistling past him. But as he kept falling, Bucky came to a sort of peace. Steve had the body to match his heart and soul now. Steve would grieve, but this was Steve. He would find another. His heart was too big not to let love in. Bucky knew he would spend some time in Purgatory for the things he’d done, but he knew with absolute certainty that God would welcome him into Heaven because Bucky had done his job. He had protected and loved Steven Grant Rogers.

There was pain when he hit. He drifted in and out of consciousness. He saw the blood, his arm several feet from his body. He thought he was hallucinating when they came to drag him away. Someone had other plans for Bucky. Purgatory and Heaven would have to wait. There was more pain: mind-numbing, screaming his lungs out, please kill me now, Steve where are you pain. Then there was nothing.

*~*~*~*~

The mind remembered. The serum helped.

They might have thought they destroyed everything, but they didn’t. He still had his sense memory. He knew how to find a target and hit it every time. He never missed. Never. They wiped him and froze him so he would never fully heal, never fully recover anything that would turn him against them. He knew what to expect when he was put in the chair. No amount of wiping would erase the sense of fear, the sense of dread that came when he was pushed back into the chair.

When he asked about the man ( _who the hell is Bucky?)_ he was not answered. The man who gave him orders was angry. The man ordered a wipe. He let the others push him down, opening his mouth for the guard. The scent and taste of it always lingered in his memory, despite the wipes. He bit down on it, tried not to shake as the metal armature surrounded his head.

He screamed.

But the mind remembered.

He fought the man in the blue suit. The man who called him Bucky. The man who claimed to be his friend. The first shot was a flesh wound. The knife went in a shoulder. His own shoulder was wrenched from its socket. The thigh. The arm. He could have killed this man a thousand times over, but he didn’t. He couldn’t comprehend why. The gut shot should have ended it. But the man still came.

The man helped him. His mind was reeling. His system was flooded with feelings, emotions he couldn’t put a name to. He fought. But the man didn’t resist. “You! Are! My! Mission!” he shouted, pounding and pounding the man’s face.

One sentence stopped him cold.

“Then finish it, ‘cause I’m with you til the end of the line.”

He watched as the man fell. This triggered another memory. One he’d had before. Before the wipe. One that was right there at the surface waiting to be retrieved. He remembered falling. But it was him. The screech of metal as it tore, the feel of the air, the man… Steve, yelling his name. He shook himself from the memory when he heard the splash of the man hitting the water. The man sank.

He didn’t think, just jumped from the burning ship straight into the water. His flesh arm was useless. He was afraid of using the other arm, but he had no choice. He grabbed the back of the man’s uniform, pulling as he kicked up and out of the water. He dragged the man to the shore, setting him on the sand. He watched for a moment, wondering if he would need to help. But the man took a breath, sputtering out water. The man would live.

He could hear the wail of emergency vehicles. He needed to go. But he wanted to stay. Survival overrode everything. He ran. There was a safe house he could go to, so he ran. He grabbed a jacket to disguise the arm, kept his head low, and blended. When he got to the house, he immediately stripped of the leathers. They were uncomfortable and wet and he needed to clean out the arm. The water in the shower was hot. He stayed in there until the first stirrings of the cold. He shut it off with more force than was necessary.

No one knew of this safe house, not yet. He could stay here for a while but he would have to move eventually. Right now, he needed to heal and to sleep. He reset his flesh shoulder, holding in the scream of pain. He thought he blacked out because he found himself on the floor several minutes later. The bathroom held painkillers. Nothing that would mask everything, but pills that would dull the wildfire to a mild burn.

The bed was soft, too soft and he couldn’t rest. He pulled the covers off and made a nest on the floor. He had never had to think about sleep before. There had always been the chamber after a mission. But there wasn’t a mission anymore. Mission failed. He shook and whimpered until sleep came. The dreams were formless. Faces and voices he didn’t know, or thought he didn’t. He didn’t know it but his mind was repairing itself for the first time in far too many years. Connections were being remade, the walls of endless wipes breaking down.

When he came awake, he was disoriented for a moment. He was still, ready to pull the knife from its hiding place under his makeshift pillow. But the memories of the day before resurface and he allowed himself to relax slightly. He remembered he needed to eat. He picked at what was in the cupboards, savoring each bite. He watched the news, saw the destruction and mayhem. But there was nothing about the man. He stayed in the house all day, letting his mind wander.

That night he dreamed again.

At first, there was a good dream. It was slightly vague, involving feelings of closeness and happiness. He woke up, with a strange feeling coursing through his body. He wasn’t allowed to be happy. He’d done things; horrible things. He tried to go to sleep again, knowing he would dream of those things. How could anyone be kind and comforting to someone who did those things?

The man could.

The man he’d rescued. The man who knew a name; a name that was and yet wasn’t him. A man who claimed to be his friend, yet felt like so much more to him. A man whose eyes bored into the very core of him. Did the man see the monster inside? Could the man see the tragedy his work had wrought? He doesn’t think so. He woke early, gathering things he would need in a duffel. Clothes, weapons, cash from the safe, protein bars and some fresh fruit. He snagged a lightweight jacket from the closet to cover the arm, a cap to partially shield his face. There was more growth to his beard, but it would help him blend.

He left the house, wandering the city. There were work crews out, cleaning up, but the rest of the city went on as if this were normal. He marveled at the people around him, shrugging in on himself to keep from being buffeted by the crowds. He had no destination in mind, he just walked. Then he saw it: a very large picture of the man. It was outside a museum. People were going in and out. He should go in, find out more about the man. He stowed the duffel in the dense foliage of a tree and walked in. He paid the fee to get inside and walked until he saw the exhibit.

Everything around him was so familiar. The man, smaller and skinny. A memory tugged at the edges of his mind. But he ignored as he drifted to another part of the exhibit. There was his face. But it wasn’t. It had the name the man had called him. James Buchanan Barnes. It claimed he was best friends with Steve Rogers, the man. It said that Barnes was dead. He was. Whoever James Buchanan Barnes had been before, that wasn’t who he was now. He wasn’t Bucky. Maybe he was James. He needed a name, something to be called until he figured out everything.

Then he heard a laugh.

He turned. He found himself in front of a screen without remembering how he got there. The man, Steve, was standing next to Bucky and they were laughing. The memories chose then to hit him. He remembered laughter and tears. Fights, both physical and verbal. He remembered a smaller body, red lips, flushed face and labored breathing after he’d been sucked off. He remembered tight heat, moans and cries and that smaller body under him and feeling so god-damned happy he could die. He wanted that again. He doesn’t deserve it. But oh how he wanted.

He was jerked from those memories by a jostle to his shoulder and a vague call of “Sorry.” James (he’d finally decided it would do for now), shook his head gently and moved away from the repeating loop of Steve and the man he wasn’t. He briefly went by the part about the Howling Commandos and smiled at happier memories of the men, who were more than likely dead by now. He left the museum, gathered his duffel and wandered again. The next nearest safe house was in Baltimore. A quick train ride and he’d be there in no time. It would do until he could gather himself to make a plan.

*~*~*~*~*

There had been a HYDRA operative at the safe house when James arrived. But the agent had taken one look at him and fled. He’d only have the night, but that was all he needed. James ate and went online. He had been given the knowledge of how to navigate with this century’s technology in case he needed it to find a target. Now he used to troll through everything there was about Steve Rogers. Some things sparked old memories. When he watched footage of Steve fighting aliens in New York, he muttered “stupid punk” every time Steve did something that would have gotten a normal man killed.

When James went to bed, well, he laid on the floor to sleep; he wondered if he would dream memories of Steve. Instead they were of war. War bleeding into the fall into being captured and turned over to Zola. Zola who told him he was to be “the new fist of HYDRA”. Zola who had instituted the system of wiping and freezing because the serum Zola had injected into James would otherwise repair the damage done. James dreamed of the tiny little man laughing at him. Of being handed over to countless other men to do their bidding. Finally, of Pierce who’d set him after Steve. The man hadn’t known what he was doing.

The last command from Pierce of “wipe him”, jerked James awake. But he wasn’t scared or trembling. He was angry. Full of rage and hate and the need to do _something._ He got up and went online again with the tiny laptop the HYDRA agent had left behind. Zola was dead, completely now that the bunker containing the computer brain of the mad scientist had blown up in attempt to kill Steve and a woman they called Romanoff. James had a flicker of a memory but he pushed it away to focus on Pierce. He was dead too. James roared in frustration, nearly throwing the laptop against the wall.

Instead, he did more searching as several names came to him. Other HYDRA connected scientists. He could go after them. Maybe they would lead him to others. He had a clear mission now. He catnapped for two more hours before he left the safe house; loaded up once more with weapons and cash.

*~*~*~*~*~*

He blazed a small trail up the Eastern seaboard. Then he paid for a private plane back to Europe. He heard rumblings from some of the men he captured that Captain America (Steve) was rooting out HYDRA cells as well as another group of unknowns. James thought the more the merrier. He kept away from wherever Steve might be for the most part. Sometimes he left men behind for Steve to find. He wasn’t ready to face Steve. James was still coming to terms with what Steve had meant to him, what he might mean to him now.

Outside of Vladivostok he ran into the red-headed woman. He remembered her as Natalia. The information on the internet said she was Natasha. He’d trained her to kill.

“You’ve not changed, Yasha,” she said, leaning casually against a chimney on the roof where they were standing.

“But you have, my little Lia,” he replied. He knew she could kill him in the blink of an eye if she wanted to. That she hadn’t already meant she wanted to check him out, maybe tell him something.

“I had forgotten you called me that,” she laughed softly. “I miss it.”

He stared at her, wondering what kind of woman she was now, if she wasn’t the cold, calculating killer the Red Room had wanted her to be. “What are you doing here, Lia?”

“I’ve… we’ve been tracking your movements,” she said. “Not SHIELD,” she clarified. “Another group I work for. Steve’s a part of it. He knows you’re out here. Why don’t you go to him?”

“He can’t… I’m not,” he shook his head. “It’s not time yet. Soon.”

She nodded. “Don’t wait too long, Yasha.”

“James.”

“James, then. I’ve left you a present in the house on the corner.”

When he turned to ask what she meant, she was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It took another three months before he was almost out of people to find. He was in Belgrade, thinking about putting this scientist out of his misery when the front door burs open and Steve and another man – the one who’d had the wings – came crashing in. James stared at them as they stopped several feet away. Steve was staring right back.

“You gonna let me finish my job, punk, or what?” he said.

Steve opened and closed his mouth. The other man spoke up. “We kinda need the dude alive. He’s got info we need. Mind if I drag him outside? We got back up coming.”

“Be my guest,” James replied, moving out of the way and gesturing to the hog-tied prisoner. Once scientist and side-kick were gone, James and Steve were left alone.

“Buck…” Steve began.

“I’m not him. Not sure I ever will be,” he said softly.

Steve smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. You’re my friend.”

“Am I more than that?” He looked straight at Steve, wanting and hoping that his dream had been real. That Steve would offer the answer he’d been pushing away while searching out HYDRA.

“You remember?” Steve asked, stepping slowly, but surely forward. He set his shield to rest against the wall and pulled off his cowl. There was nothing between them like it had been on the carrier. James barely nodded. “Yes, you were. You were my friend, and my lover.”

James let out a breath and sagged. It had been real. It had all been real. He’d been so afraid that the memories might have been something implanted, suggested, by HYDRA. Steve was even closer now.

“Bucky?”

James reached for Steve who took James into his arms without question. James collapsed in Steve’s embrace, the sobs coming unbidden. They stood there for a long while, Steve running a hand down James’s back while whispering soothing words into his hair. When it was over, James looked up into Steve’s oh so very blue eyes.

“I loved you.”

This time the smile reached Steve’s eyes and lit up his whole face. “You did. And I loved you. Still love you. Nothing’s gonna change that ever, Buck.”

“James,” he whispered back.

“James,” Steve repeated. “You can come back with me and Sam. I have a place in Brooklyn, not far from where we were before. We can… we can get to know each other again.”

“Yes, I’d… yes,” James answered, not trusting himself to say anything else.

Steve grinned, and it made James feel warmer inside than he had in almost seventy years.

*~*~*~*~*

The road ahead was bumpy. James had nightmares, but apparently Steve did too. They both talked to Sam about it, as well as professionals. Steve occasionally called him Bucky, but James let it slide; it was going to take a while to adjust. And maybe one day, he might go back to using the familiar nickname. He got used to calling Lia Tasha, though when they slipped into Russian to argue or hide something, he’d use the former and she’d smile.

He joined their team, the Avengers. He still watched Steve’s back because the man he loved was an idiot. He moved in with Steve. A few years later they even got hitched, because that was a thing two men could do now. James filled his life with love and family and while he would never be able to forget what had been done to him, he was glad he was here now, with Steve.

 


End file.
